


I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace, and you’re the hero flying around, saving face

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Supernatural Season 15 Codas [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Afterlife, Alcoholism, Angst, Coda, Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Rescue, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27550615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Jack’s mouth tugs into a smile.  “It’s over, Castiel.  All of it.  Chuck is gone.  I have taken his place.  The world is saved.”Castiel does not hide his confusion.  “If everything is the way that it should be, then why are you here?”“That is where you’re wrong,” a wisdom mingles with the gentle nature in Jack’s eyes, “everything is not the way that it should be.  Far from it, in fact.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural Season 15 Codas [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1517966
Comments: 19
Kudos: 578





	I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace, and you’re the hero flying around, saving face

**Author's Note:**

> This didn’t come out as intended, but I hope everyone enjoys.
> 
> The title is taken from the song “My Tears Ricochet” by Taylor Swift.

Castiel relives every memory he accumulated from his time on Earth. The hopelessness, the fear, the happiness. He stares up at the blank void all around him and watches, unmoving as tears slip down his temples. 

He did not expect to feel such peace, but he does. Unrelenting peace. Unfiltered joy at all he had done, the good and the bad. Acceptance of his choices and how he will spend eternity.

But a whooshing sound gains Castiel’s attention. He turns to the side, away from the screen. His cheek presses coldly against the dark marble floor.

A figure wearing squeaky trainers kneels. Jeans and a beige jacket come into view.

No. The jacket isn’t beige. It is white. His clothes are blue. He glows in the darkness.

“Cas,” Jack says, resting a hand on his shoulder, “this isn’t how it ends for you. Come with me.”

Castiel absorbs the fact that Jack is here, when he is not supposed to be here, shining brighter than any cosmic entity in the entire universe. Brighter than anyone has ever been in the whole of existence.

“Jack,” his voice is scratchy from an unspecified time of disuse, “why do you look…”

“Different?” Jack’s brows climb high. “You don’t see it?”

“I do,” Castiel’s joints protest as he struggles to sit up on the floor, “I just...I don’t understand.”

Jack’s mouth tugs into a smile. “It’s over, Castiel. All of it. Chuck is gone. I have taken his place. The world is saved.”

Castiel does not hide his confusion. “If everything is the way that it should be, then why are you here?”

“That is where you’re wrong,” a wisdom mingles with the gentle nature in Jack’s eyes, “everything is not the way that it should be. Far from it, in fact.”

Castiel furrows his brows. He uses his palms to leverage himself at a better angle. His legs tuck underneath one another, the screen fading above him. It is just Castiel and Jack in the void.

When Castiel does not speak, Jack continues, “I have spent the past days making everything right. Fixing everything that was broken. Resurrecting those who did not deserve a premature death. All that is left, my last task to make right,” he rises to his feet, offering a hand, “is you.”

Staring at the hand, Castiel hesitates. He tips his head up. “I still don’t understand.”

“Come with me,” Jack says, adding a humorous inflection, “if you want to live.”

“Jack,” Castiel sighs, “I did what I had to do. Said what I had to say. I don’t-”

“I haven’t spoken directly to Dean and Sam in the week since...it happened,” Jack says, “but...you know what? I’ll show you.”

Jack sweeps his hand over the ceiling. Castiel squints upwards as a new screen materializes above their heads.

A suburban neighborhood is shown. A corner house is zoomed in by Jack, until the front of a quaint house is at the forefront. A sign screaming “SOLD!” is picketed on the freshly-mowed lawn. 

Wordlessly, Jack takes them through a front door painted bright red. A spacious foyer is packed with boxes labeled with initials and a description of what each cardboard cube contains.

Sam pads through an archway wearing an exercise shirt and basketball shorts. His hair is slicked back away from his face, as usual, and a softness reaches his eyes.

Eileen descends the nearby staircase wearing jeans and one of Sam’s old plaid shirts. Sam stops in his tracks as her hair flows with the breeze. When she reaches the bottom of the steps, she realizes he is watching. 

Sam smiles, uncaring that he was caught. Eileen rolls her eyes and signs something to him fondly.

Jack flicks his hand in an abrupt movement. The scene that had Castiel smiling is replaced with one that is all too familiar.

Dean is still in the bunker, passed out on the war room floor. A bottle of empty whiskey is his companion, beer scattered about the tables as well.

Even though his sleep is not peaceful, he curls in on himself. A tightly-wound rubber band ball ready to snap. Ready to shed layers and create self-destruction.

“He prays for you,” Jack says. “He prays for you every morning and every night. When he receives no answer…”

Melancholy clouds Jack’s face. He ducks his head to hide from Castiel’s scrutiny. A small sigh escapes his mouth.

“He told me,” Jack murmurs down at Castiel, “he told me in a prayer what happened.”

Castiel tilts his head to the side. He no longer cares for shame, or refusing to expose his ultimate vulnerability. “And?”

He hates the hope that jumps out of his throat. The belief that maybe, oh, just maybe-

“If you want to know,” Jack replies, “you’ll have to speak to him yourself.”

At Jack’s innocent smile, Castiel sighs. “I don’t know, Jack,” he says warily, “I don’t know.”

“If that’s the case,” Jack offers his hand a second time, “will you come back for me?”

Castiel frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I can give you your powers back, make you my second,” Jack chimes. “All I know is I’m not letting you stay here. You did not deserve death.”

As Castiel finally rises, legs creaking, he asks, “so those are my only two options?”

Now that they face each other fully, Jack seems to read his entire angelic being, as expansive and abstract as it is, with a microscope. 

And he laughs. “I know what you want, Castiel. I can give it to you.” Jack’s voice softens. “Don’t be afraid to ask for it.”

Castiel lifts his head back to the ceiling. The screen projecting Dean remains. He clutches the whiskey bottle in his sleep. His face tenses as if submerged in a nightmare. Demons are etched between his freckles, spelled out across his pores. Dean cannot escape them, and Castiel aches for the unspoken truth hinted at by Jack to be real.

Castiel levels his head, studying Jack’s ethereal and honest expression.

And he says, “I want to become human.”

————

Castiel sticks his hands in his hoodie. Jack teleported him to Dean’s location: a Gas ‘N Sip near the bunker.

His heart skips when he glimpses Dean inside the convenience store. The cashier bags three four-packs of beer. Dean’s face is reserved as the transaction is confirmed.

Castiel leans against the front of the Impala. He waits as Dean pushes open the glass door with his brown bag.

In the span of a bell chime, Dean’s eyes lift to his Impala. They linger.

As the glass door slams shut, Dean loses his grip on the brown bag. A layer of glass beer bottles break on impact with the concrete.

And Castiel sees it. Sees everything in Dean’s eyes that he kept hidden. Everything left unsaid. Everything that brewed in his mind and pushed, pushed, pushed down until he couldn’t push it down anymore, and it leapt up, flying into the sky and making a mess. Eggshells on a wooden floor. A smashed vase. A bleeding heart.

Castiel knows. He knows it now. He knows it without Dean having to say it. Dean doesn’t have to say a word.

Dean is moving, the brown bag forgotten as he reaches the Impala. Once he is close, Castiel smells the alcohol on his clothes, his breath, staining the beauty of his sea glass green-gold eyes.

Dean breathes heavily, drinking in Castiel’s face. “I…” He reaches out, shaky hand touching on the sleeve of Castiel’s hoodie. “Cas? Are you real?”

“Yes,” Castiel clears his throat roughly, “hello, Dean.”

Dean’s entire body trembles. “Cas,” his eyes immediately water, “I want to say-”

“I know,” Castiel murmurs, “I know.”

Dean exhales slowly. His hand lowers to Castiel’s. Warmth registers. Dean’s fingers curl around Castiel’s wrist.

“I love you,” Dean whispers, ensuring that Castiel knows it without a doubt, “I love you so much.”

Castiel places his opposite hand over Dean’s. “Sober up,” he insists, “and we’ll talk.”

Dean nods. “Will you come with me?”

“Always,” Castiel replies, “always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
